Letting Go
by VWChica
Summary: Harry's having a hard summer after his fourth year. Can his best friend and a trip to America make him let go of his worries?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Letting Go  
  
Author: RedWingsChica14 (and no, I'm not 14 years old... stop asking)  
  
Rating: PG-13 (TV-14)  
  
Spoilers: Book four for now, however just to be safe, I may spill some from all of them. Hey, what are you doing here if you haven't read the books?! Read those first!!  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone in the world knows that a wonderful and beautiful woman by the name of J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all that is associated with such a name. I only borrow them in the chance that I may entertain a few for free, and enhance my creative abilities as a writer. You can't argue with that, now can ya? :)  
  
Summary: Harry's having a hard summer after his fourth year. Can his best friend and a trip to America make him let go of his worries?  
  
A/N: Alright. I can't guarantee how fast chapters for this fic will be up, however, my goal is at least one a week. I know chapter one is reallllly short, however chapter two is much longer, and just has to be final drafted, which shouldn't take longer than a day. This is my first REAL attempt at Harry Potter fanfic. I usually stick to original fiction and non-fiction, but I've just been emersed by Potterdom recently. I appreciate reviews, both good and bad. The bad will be laughed at unless it's constructive.  
  
----  
Chapter 1 - The Dream  
----  
  
Harry Potter was surrounded in the vast darkness of the forest. He stood there silently, in the pitch black, his wand armed in front of him. He could not see the thin stick of wood in front of his face, or the murky ground he stood on, or anything else for that matter.  
  
A high pitched, malicious scream pierced the darkness. Harry's head snapped toward where the laugh echoed.His knuckles were stinging from the death grip he had on his wand. He sprung to his left. Jumped to his right.  
  
"Lumos," he muttered, having found his voice at last.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Lumos," he said in a more demanding tone, sweat pouring down his forehead despite the utter cold that was submerging him.  
  
Still, nothing. Then, a scream.  
  
It pierced the darkness like a knife. Unlike the laugh of before, this scream was not cold, not cruel like the laugh was. This scream came from a woman - an innocent woman. Then the scream came to an unnatrual and abrupt stop.  
  
Harry did not know what was controlling him, but something inside told him to run. A primal instinct took over his body, and he ran. He stumbled now and then, but it did not stop his shoes from squashing against the damp grounds, desperately searching for the source of the scream. He had to help her!  
  
Suddenly, his feet froze from under him, and he stumbled. Based on nothing more than instinct, he dropped to his knees and started to feel his way through the wet leaves and mucky floor of the forest, looking for something. Looking for someone.  
  
His hand colided with a cold, clammy object. He continued to inspect, using his hands as a blind man would, until he suddenly stopped. He snatched his hand back quickly, horrified at the images his mind was producing. He didn't want to believe it, no, it couldn't be, his mind pleaded.  
  
But it was.  
  
On the ground, she lay there, cold as death. 


	2. The Invitation

---------------------------------------  
Chapter Two: The Invitation  
---------------------------------------  
  
"Hermione!!"  
  
A messy haired teenage boy bolted upright in his bed, heart racing in his chest. Harry was no longer in the forest. He was safe, in his bed on Privet Drive, far from the woods, far from Voldemort. Hermione was safe - most likely still dreaming of Viktor, or whatever it was that happy teenage witches dreamt about.  
  
It was only a dream, the young man kept repeating in his head. No matter how many times he said that, it did nothing to slow his heart. The words did not affect his exhasperated breathing. He slept no better at night, knowing those words.  
  
Harry decided he had enough sleep, as the rays of sunlight were slowly creeping into his window. His bare feet touched the creaky floor boards and he walked towards the mirror. His reflection stared back to him, with eyes that reflected far more pain than they should, and an expression that one would never think a nearly fifteen year old would carry.   
  
"Look at yourself," he said into the mirror, tone full of disgust, "Five foot seven. One hundred and thirty five pounds. Glasses and messed up hair. What kind of a hero is that? Certainly no Superman."  
  
Harry Potter was not quite fifteen years old, yet he held the entire wizarding world on his shoulders. When he was just one year old, he defeated the worst dark lord in a long time - Lord Voldemort. The encounter, while leaving Harry with nothing but a lightening bolt scar on his forehead, had left Voldemort near death. He was gone for thirteen years - Harry was a hero. However, before the last school term had ended, Harry was abducted by Voldemort's servant, Peter Pettigrew, and with Pettigrew's help, Voldemort returned to his body. He was back, and he had killed a schoolmate of Harry's already. Cedric Diggory - a kind and carefree young man, had been Voldemort's first victim in this new reign of terror.  
  
Harry blamed himself for Cedric's death. No matter how many times his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, expressed to him otherwise, he blamed himself. Not even the wise words of his godfather, Sirius Black, did anything to cure the ails of Harry's bleak mind.  
  
Harry turned towards his open bedroom window and sat down next to it, peering out at the bright, sunny morning. His snowy white owl, Hedwig, was supposed to be returning soon with a letter from Sirius. Harry stared outside, at the perfect, identical lawns and the shiny bright cars all lined up in rows, and felt nothing but disgust and hatred towards it all. It was all so ... perfect. In his mind, he had every right to hate perfectness. His parents had died to save him when he was only a baby. He lived with relatives who cringed at the very idea of him. And yet everything around looked so perfect.  
  
What a crock.  
  
A loud, banging knock at the door caused him to jump slightly, causing him to quit focusing on his self-destructive thoughts. The door squeaked open slightly and his Aunt Petunia, looking more horse-like than usual, peered in through the small opening.  
  
"You. Phone." She sneered, and stuck her bony arm through the crack, the telephone clutched in her claw-like hand. Harry walked to the door and took the phone. No sooner had he done that than she snapped her arm back and slammed the door shut, as if even breathing the air from his room would bring on some terrible contagion. Harry lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?" He asked, in a curious tone.  
  
"Harry! Hi!" A cheerful young woman replied to his query.  
  
"Hermione! I should have known it was you." Harry said, smiling, however slightly, for the first time all summer.  
  
"How are you, Harry? You know, you told me about your aunt before, but I had no idea just how bad you must have it. She sounded so cheerful when she answered the phone. But then... then I told her who I was calling for, and she just did a complete one-eighty. What a flake! I talked with her one minute on the phone, and already I can't stand her. You're a lot braver than I thought, Harry."  
  
Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at this. He considered his aunt's shallowness to be one of her finest traits.   
  
"That's Petunia for you," Harry informed his pretty friend, "She's always nice when she thinks you could be a 'respectable' person, but once she figures out that she won't gain anything from sucking up, she'll turn into devil woman. But enough about her. To what do I owe this privledge of hearing your lovely voice?"  
  
"Well, Harry, my parents and I are going to America, and I wanted to invite you along. I've already tried Ron, but he's going with his family to visit Charlie. He's still in Romania with the dragons."  
  
Harry couldn't remember a time when he had felt this happy while standing within one thousand feet of the Dursleys. "Of course I'll go! I've never been to America.. when are we leaving?"  
  
Hermione giggled over the phone, "Harry, calm down. We'll be picking you up Saturday morning. The flight is at one o'clock in the afternoon, so we should probably be at your house at eight. Oh, and don't worry about the Dursleys. My parents have ways of getting even the most stubborn of people to agree to things."  
  
"Hermione... you have no idea. This is wonderful. Thank you. I'll see you Saturday morning, okay?"  
  
"Sure thing, Harry. This summer is going to be fun, just you wait."  
  
Harry and Hermione ended the conversation, and Harry pattered down the stairs of the Dursleys house, for the first time ever, bearing a smile.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
  
A/N: Yes, I know, Harry seemed to have a bit of a drastic mood change in the middle of that chapter. He was caught up in the thrill of leaving the Dursleys and spening his summer with Hermione in America. Once he gets used to the idea he'll be a bit more sullen. 


End file.
